Thy name is etched in stone my son
By tears that drench the rock
On which thy sacred head lay on
To don thy blessed frock
Bleed on my heart to wipe the tears
Haply shed for martyrs gone anon
Afore they reach the shores sans fears
Behold they the Face of the Son
Hold back the shouts of agony
Heed thou the blessed trumpet sound
When martyrs all thy doors do knock
Farewell below and Grace beyond
Farewell fair lads heaven bound
Thy footsteps marked ye well
To us to follow the trumpets sound
To end the night of hell
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Saba E. Demian, M.D